


Of Dragon Lords and Pirate Captains

by arojameswesley



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, Kidnapping, M/M, Off-screen Minor Character Death, Pirates, eventual 00q
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arojameswesley/pseuds/arojameswesley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q is the Lord of Dragons and James is the captain of a rather notorious pirate ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter I

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are not mine. 
> 
> The idea came from this gifset (with permission): http://shipimpala.tumblr.com/post/51135777238/q-is-the-lord-of-dragons-captain-bond-is-a-bad
> 
> The mistakes are all mine.

As a young boy, Q had always known that he'd had an affinity for animals. Even when very young, he had been able to approach wild dogs with no fear, and had been given the most unruly pony - which had responded well to his hand and his hand alone. He'd had a happy childhood as the only child of a well-respected and fair lord and lady. They lived on the coast and, growing up, his rooms had overlooked the glittering blue sea. Q and his family lived in a land of perpetual summer and good moods.

Things changed when he was fifteen.

A ship came from another land, ransacked the town and palace. The crew had killed everyone in their path and taken everything even slightly valuable. Pirates. Q had heard stories, had been told just how fearsome and ruthless pirates were, but, until that night, had never truly understood the lengths that they would go to get what they wanted. He didn't see any of them up close but he heard the screams and crashes. Had stepped over many a dead body on his way through the streets that night. 

A hand-maiden by the name of Eve had smuggled Q out by way of the secret passages built for this very purpose. He'd been handed a large sack and hurried on his way, with one instruction: don't be seen.

That night, he witnessed the fall of the town that he'd known as home. Screams pierced the air even as smoke obscured his vision. He had one purpose: get out of town. There was nothing that could be done for the people now, as loathe as he was to admit it.

The town that had once been alight with the sound of laughter and music was now alight for real. Flames engulfed the entire town, tore through homes and inns and brothels without prejudice. Q later learned that, of the thirty-four thousand residents, less than three thousand survived. He also learned that Eve had survived; she was captured by the crew and taken aboard their ship. Not once did he let himself dwell on what horrors had awaited her there. From time to time, he wondered if she was still alive but he didn't let himself wonder very long. He didn't much like the conclusion that he came to.

Q fled and never looked back. He wasn't proud of it but there was nothing that he could have done. The young boy left, and it was only when the sun appeared over the horizon the next morning that he stopped. Crouched in an alley in the neighboring town, he had looked around and finally opened the sack. What he saw caused him much confusion.

Four large, egg-shaped rocks. One blue, as deep as the deepest waters. There was one that was black, darker than the night sky. In fact, it wasn't merely black; it was the complete absence of colour. As he stared into it, Q was struck with the thought that it was like staring into a void. It unnerved him so much that he stuffed it back into the bag and tried to forget about it. 

The third was dark green, shot through with veins of murky yellow. Though beautiful in its own way, it was the least noteworthy of them all.

The last was easily his favourite. This one was the smallest, but the heaviest. Even in the shadows of the alley, he could see every shade of purple known to man (and some he was sure that had never been seen before, as well). It seemed to vibrate slightly in his hands, but he was sure that he was just imagining it. In fact, he was sure that he was imagining the whole affair and that he was soon to wake up to the sound of the ocean crashing against the cliff outside his window.

Sadly, that was to never happen. It would be many, many years before he returned to the ruins of his hometown.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely happy with this chapter (nor the last) but I've been procrastinating this for long enough and so I'm glad just to get something out. See the start of chapter one for the notes that apply to the whole of this work.

It had taken him a long time to adjust; for months after the attack on his home, he'd wandered, begging at the back doors of bakeries and grocers. For the most part, he lived off their burnt, unsellable bread or fruit that was about to spoil. 

He survived, though. Even at fifteen years old, he'd been smart. He kept the stones with him at all times and, after months of aimless wandering as he tried to come to terms with the sudden change, he set his mind to finding out what they were. 

Oddly enough, he found himself met with hostility. He went to scholars, even hunted down back alleys for the occasional mage hidden away. He'd bring out the stones, their eyes would go wide and he'd be ushered out without another word. It was vexing, but he was determined. 

Nearly a year after being driven from his home, he finally found the answer to what he carried. It had come from an unlikely source. The man was an expert on things of myth and legend but he owned a bakery because he could hardly make a living off what he knew. Dragons had died out and nobody had seen hide nor hair of a phoenix in nigh on a hundred years. The topic was so taboo that he'd learnt at a young age not to ask questions about what had happened to the wonderful creatures that featured so often in the stories that he read. His questions to his parents had been met with sad looks and a promise to tell him when he was older. 

Some of his questions were answered by a middle-aged man on a balmy summer's evening. In return for some of the better bread, Q was asked to show him what was in his bag. Seeing no reason not to show him, he'd complied right away, his empty stomach making the decision for him. 

The man's eyes had widened, but his reaction was entirely different to what Q had come to expect. He'd been ushered in and, over a bowl of hot soup with crusty bread, the man - a Mr. Tanner - had explained what he had and, perhaps more importantly, who his family were. 

From there, things had changed drastically, yet again. Tanner, as he affectionately became known, closed up his bakery and promised to help Q. They travelled around the South and amassed a following of those who still believed. Carefully, quietly, for a fell air had fallen over the kingdom and people with knowledge like Tanner's were being rounded up.

\--

Six years later and the atmosphere's even more tense. 

They're far from any civilisation now, Q, his now-hatched dragons and his small crew of followers. It's easy to forget the unrest that has settled across the land.

A grassy plain stretches out as far as the eye can see north and west. Behind them, to the south, lies the mountains and, to their east, is the Bay of Almorah. The waters were said to be treacherous but that didn't stop the small dragons plunging into the water to seek out fish. Q had to be careful about letting his dragons out; their existence would certainly attract unwanted attention. As such, they travelled hidden and it made them restless. Here, they would be free to stretch their wings and fly as they please. 

"We'll set up camp here for a few nights," he decides and the next few hours are spent setting up their ragged tents and getting a fire going. The evening passes like any other and the crew, tired, soon retire to their tents to catch up on their sleep. 

It's not long after that Q settles down, his dragons safely (regrettably) secured in their crates. 

They come a couple of hours before dawn, silent but deadly. Within minutes, the only one left alive is Q and he's not aware of it until two men burst into the tent, waking him and the dragons. Their blades drip blood and he doesn't want to think who it belongs to. 

Are they looters? Unlikely, given their remote location. 

Harpies? Ghouls? He dismisses both as soon as the thought forms. 

Pirates. It falls into place at he properly looks at them and takes in their clothes, their weapons.

"This is the one," one says, in a voice tinged with an accent that he doesn't recognise. 

"Bring 'im, then. We don't got all night. The capt'n wants us back by dawn," the other replies, sheathing his sword and lifting two of the dragon crates easily. Q wants to protest but finds that he can't move. 

He blames the cold steel of the sword pressed up against his Adam's apple. If he dies, nobody would be able to care for the dragons. Tanner had taught him the basics of what he needed to know; the rest would come with time, he'd said. 

That's why he stands slowly, allows the pirate to bind his wrists with rough, worn rope. He wants to soothe his dragons; he can see their distress from here, the way they hiss and their wings beat against the sides of the crates. Before he can do anything, he's being pulled away. 

The next time he sees them is nearly two hours later, in the pre-dawn light. The four crates are being hauled onto a huge ship. Under any other circumstances, Q would have wondered at how magnificent it was but he seems unable to feel much of anything. He moves numbly, hardly resisting as he, too, is pulled aboard and ushered below where's he's locked in a cell and left for what feels like forever. 

He passes the time trying to work his wrists out of the bindings but only succeeds in giving himself rope burn. He tries to sleep but worry for his dragons is too prevalent and, as tired as he is, sleep won't come. 

Eventually, he settles on counting the boards of wood that he can see, mostly to pass the time and to give himself something else to focus on than his current predicament. He's so caught up by his self-set task that he doesn't hear footsteps approaching.


End file.
